SIDELINED. Out of
commission. That’s what I’ve felt like
the last five weeks. Sidelined from
teaching, from going out in the community doing things I love, and from
exercising. It hasn’t been easy.
I think I’ve left our condo six or seven times since my
ankle surgery Jan. 2nd other than for doctor appointments. Each time entails having to be carried down
three flights of stairs to the elevator, where I’m put in a wheel chair or manage
crutches til I get to the car. I saw my
first sunset at the beach a few nights ago.
It was heavenly. I keep thanking
my husband for that.
You know how when you are camping how you miss certain foods
so much that when you taste anything close to them it’s so much better? The sunset was superb the other night. I sat on a picnic table perched above the
sand and drank in every second of it. I watched the way the sun illumined the waves, and how the people and the palm trees were colored gold. As the red orb sank below the horizon, I lifted up both
hands, worshiping God. Just to be at
the beach, to hear the waves, to smell the salt, to watch my boys playing with my
husband as he knelt down for the thousandth time to get just the right angle on
his camera...priceless.
I’ve been discovering layers of benefits during this
SIDELINED season.
I see more clearly. I usually sit out on our lanai each morning
with my coffee and a bowl of cereal. I
read some of the Word, pray over my boys, and look out at the surf. But now I do this differently. It’s sweeter out there in that fresh
air. I no longer take it for
granted. I can’t carry my coffee or my
cereal to the table, so usually rely on my younger son to do this as Evan and
Randy have already left for school. That’s hard.
Jo Jo has been on it though. So what have I seen from my lanai? I use the binoculars daily. I notice colors in the waves that I haven’t
perceived before. Today I watched a
mother whale and her calf surface and play in the bay at Queen’s Bath. I watched ten different boats circle up, like
me, taking in every spout, every fluke, every magnificent breech. It was fabulous. I quietly observed them for
a half hour, sipping my coffee, and exclaiming aloud to nobody.
I dig more deeply. Like I said, I usually read some part of the
Bible each day. Usually there is no
order to it, other than maybe following a little devotional I’m on.
It’s usually pretty quick as I’m grabbing something to stand on before
heading out the door to teach. Not now. I
can read the Word for hours if I want.
Sometimes I have. After a while I
decided to read a Proverb a day. It’s
perfect as there are 31 chapters in Proverbs.
I read through it slowly because I can.
Then, I cull a handful of verses that jump out at me. They may be completely different ones than I’ve
underlined in the past. Sometimes it’s
stuff I’ve been praying for my boys, sometimes it’s just what strikes me that
day. But it’s all good. I ponder it, write it, think or jot a few thoughts
down, and then turn it into a
prayer. I’m digging deeper than I have in a long
time. I’m finding scriptures on wisdom and understanding are spilling out
of me. They kind of hafta. They’re piling up in there. Here’s a new favorite:
“The purposes of a man’s heart are deep
waters, but a [person] of understanding, draws them out.” Proverbs 20:5
I’m resting. Like most Americans, I’m probably guilty of not keeping the Sabbath . Now I do. I usually collapse onto my bed about 10:30
each morning, as it is so exhausting just eating breakfast, hopping around the
house, making my bed, attempting to put away clothes from the night
before. My mind says I should not be
tired, but my body begs to differ. I
rest. I lie there in my fleecy
blanket and doze. Or I read a chapter in one of three books I’m
reading. It’s heavenly. I know I’m gaining weight from not being
able to get up and out. My doctor has
commanded me to be a good patient. “Thou
shalt not do stairs.” So, I am and I don’t. Pounds are being put on, but it’s not that
bad. I joke with my husband how I’m
getting one of those curvy figures like the classical artists used to
paint. He seems to be enjoying this new curvy model
of his previously-slim Kris. J
Layers are coming
off. Though pounds aren’t coming
off, layers are. Last night I scraped
off layers of dead skin from my foot, now freed from its cast. I could see there was so much more to come. I took a bath this morning, and used a rough
wash cloth to scrape and scrape and scrape.
My orange-tinted toes from the hospital antiseptic became pink again. I swear I lost a pound of flesh into the tub
and waste basket as I scraped all that gross stuff away. I couldn’t help thinking of Aslan and Eustace
in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader,
when that selfish boy-turned-dragon allows the lion to scrape off his old self
and bring out the tender boy underneath.
A symbol of baptism, Eustace cringes but allows for the scraping, the
removing of the binding for that which is free underneath. I want to be like Eustace. I know there are many more layers of pride
and selfishness still to go.
I welcome the season. Hey, I’m in good company. My hero Heidi Baker had the break-through in
her ministry in Mozambique when she was sidelined for health reasons. I realized this morning how Paul was sidelined
when he was tossed in prison, or tossed on a remote island after a shipwreck. Yet, he still plugged into God. He still wrote letters of encouragement to
people in his life. I want to be like
that. I wrote one letter today, and know
I have more to write, thanking people and speaking into their lives.
One old friend called from Portland the other day. She and her family were having a hard time
adjusting in their new church. It struck
me that they are a unique couple, and need to find just the right niche for
their giftings. I reminded her of her
gifts of evangelism and extra grace for people on the streets. She had a talk that evening with her pastor,
and found out they did have a whole department for street ministry. They’d plug in the next week. Even though I was stuck at home doing
nothing, even on crutches and SIDELINED, I could still listen and draw out the
purposes in her heart.
